


All The Little Signs

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-16 21:26:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4640775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The repercussions from Sherlock’s faked death did more than just affect his relationships with his friends, Sherlock realizes when Molly loses her position at St. Bart’s for falsifying medical documents and loses her fiancé in the process. While Molly gets her life sorted out and decides what she wants Sherlock does the same, but is it too late when he decides what he wants in his life is Molly?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daisherz365](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisherz365/gifts).



> And so, here is my 400th Sherlock-centric fic! I'm so proud of myself. ::grins:: This answers two prompts (though on part will be answered later in the story). Overall, this story answers a prompt left by an anonymous user on my Tumblr ( _Molly lost her license as result of helping Sherlock in the fall...set after he comes back_ ), and in a later chapter there will be a bit inspired by a headcanon from **[daisherz365](http://sincerelydayyy.tumblr.com/post/121217446585/let-there-be-headcanons-ii)** ( _Sherlock encouraging Lestrade to ask Molly on a date after Tom because the look on his face was more pitiful than the idea of him deciding to go for it himself. **‘Give it go’ ‘Are you okay with this?’ ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’** Lestrade just giving him a look but Sherlock’s insistence give him enough incentive to try._ ). I'm not sure how long this will be, but I think I'm going to have some fun with this.

The atmosphere at Baker Street was one of celebration. The plot had been foiled, the city saved. Sherlock Holmes was alive, the hero of the hour. And yet something seemed off. Something wasn’t right. Someone was missing from the celebrations, someone important.

Molly. Molly wasn’t there.

He paced in the foyer, glancing at his watch. Soon he and John would have to go out and face the cameras and the microphones and the journalists behind them, go paste on smiles and talk about the case. He would feel better if he knew all his friends were here to be there when it was over, to have the quiet celebration he would much rather have. 

The door opened and the loudness of the crowd gathered outside caught his attention and his head snapped up. He saw Molly squeeze through the door and then shut it behind her. She hadn’t noticed he was there yet, and so she set her head against the doorjamb, trying to collect herself. This was odd. Something was the matter. Something wasn’t right, still, only it was a different something now. “Molly,” he said quietly.

She started and then turned to look at him. Red around the eyes, dried tear tracks down her face. She’d been crying. He felt his blood boil. Someone had hurt her. Someone had made her cry. Mycroft and Molly had both made mention of a Tom in her life. If it was him he was going to wish he’d never come into her orbit. “Sherlock,” she said quietly. “You startled me.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice as gentle as he could make it.

She looked down, wringing her hands. “I got sacked, this morning,” she said. “For falsifying the autopsy report on your body. Your brother tried to smooth it all over, of course, but my superiors wouldn’t hear of it. They just…let me go. And I called…” Her voice hitched slightly. “I called Tom, and I told him, and he said…he said they were in their rights. It was illegal. And I tried to tell him the government _asked_ me to, that it might get straightened out, and he said I should have known better. He said maybe it was for the best.” He could see a tear slip off her face. “And he sounded so ashamed of me, like I’d let him down personally, like I was a child who’d disappointed a parent.”

Sherlock clenched his hands into fists. “I’ll speak to him,” he said quietly, his voice as cold as ice.

“It’s not worth it, it’s really not,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s…I gave him back his ring and just said if he was so disappointed in me that maybe it was best if he didn’t plan on marrying me. And then I just left.”

Sherlock looked behind her at the door. The press could wait. He had never given a damn about them before, why should he start now? After a moment he hesitantly reached over to touch Molly’s shoulder, to guide her up the stairs to the sitting room. She took it as a different invitation, though, and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. He looked down at her in surprise but then embraced her. If she needed comfort, if she wanted it from him, he would give it to her. He ran a hand up and down her back, haltingly at first, and then with a bit more reassurance that this was what she needed. “He didn’t deserve you,” he said.

“Maybe I’ll believe that someday,” she murmured into his suit jacket before pulling her head away from him. “I think right now I just want to go curl up in a corner and get pissed, but I know you wanted me here. Moral support and all.”

“You’re the one who could use moral support,” he said. “And I think you’ll have a room full of it upstairs. Shall we go there?”

She nodded. “All right.” She pulled away from him and then headed towards the stairs and he fell in step behind her. They made their way to the sitting room and he saw John and Mary and Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson all looking happy and laughing. It seemed to dim when they saw Molly, and she gave them all a small wave. “Hello.”

“Love, what happened?” Mary asked, getting up and coming over to her, putting an arm around her shoulders.

“Got sacked, ended the engagement…it’s been an absolutely rubbish day,” Molly said, giving a half smile which didn’t reach her eyes at all.

“Oh you poor dear,” Mrs. Hudson said, going over to the two women. “You come sit down and we’ll start trying to make it better. John? Start the kettle, would you?”

John nodded, glancing at Sherlock and then nodding towards the kitchen. Sherlock joined him as he went in and started to make the tea. “She got sacked over your disappearance?” he asked Sherlock quietly.

Sherlock nodded. “Falsifying medical documents.”

“And your brother couldn’t be arsed to do anything?” John asked, anger seeping into his voice.

“I’m sure he’s trying, but St. Bart’s is allowed to do anything with their employees that they see fit,” Sherlock said with a sigh, leaning against the countertop and looking out at the sitting room. Molly sat in between Mary and Mrs. Hudson on the sofa. “He could be trying to get her her post back, he could be trying to get her a stipend while she finds something else…he hasn’t told me his plans and this is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“He’d best do something or I’ll break into that club of his and make a ruckus they won’t believe,” he said. Then he turned to Sherlock. “You should do something, too. Help her get her mind off of things. I mean, we’ve talked. I’m not going to go off on every case with you again. Take her on the ones I don’t go on. She could probably use the distraction.”

Sherlock nodded. “I’ll ask her if she’s interested. But…later.”

John turned just in time to see Molly burst into tears and Mary pull her into an embrace. “Yeah. I think later is good. Once we get the tea started let’s get this press conference over with and then come back up here and see if there’s anything we can do or if we’ll just be in the way.”

“I think that’s a sound plan,” Sherlock said. He watched the scene, a strange mix of emotions settling on him. There was definitely anger there: anger at his brother, at her ex-fiancé, at the hospital…anger at himself for getting manipulated by Moriarty in the first place. There was sadness at seeing her in pain. And then there was an urge to comfort her. He wanted to say the right words and do the right thing to make things better, as she had tried to do before he left for his two year journey dismantling Moriarty’s network. He was just at a loss as to what those words or actions would be. So he squashed it all down and settled on impassivity. For now, while they were among others, that would have to do.


	2. Chapter 2

She was trying to put a brave face on things, put a smile on when she was around them, but he could see it wasn’t really what she was feeling. She was still quite hurt over the whole mess. His brother had tried his damnedest to get her back her post but Barts had refused. The top brass at the hospital said even though they understood the circumstances it was still falsifying legal documents and it was still illegal. Mycroft said he’d get the bloody Queen to write her a pardon and he’d even gone so far as to talk to her head of staff but Molly had asked him to stop, telling him it wasn’t worth it. If St Barts was going to toss her away even if they claimed they understood why it had been done then it wasn’t a place she wanted to be anyway.

She had seemed lost and adrift for a time after that and Sherlock began to do his own research into things that might help, finally calling upon an old acquaintance at King’s College to see if there was anything Molly could do in their Department of Pharmacy & Forensic Science. He had mentioned they had a professor retiring at the end of the term and that, perhaps, Molly could take his place. She had the skill set, certainly, and with the practical experience she could be an invaluable asset to the university. When he had broached the idea to her that had been the first time he had seen the smile she pasted on her face reach her eyes, and he felt better at having done a small part to ease the pain in her life.

It was nearly three and a half weeks after his return and he’d decided to pay her a visit. He could hear music coming from her flat and so he knocked loudly in the hopes that she could hear him. The volume of the music dimmed and she opened the door, looking at him. “Oh! Hello, Sherlock,” she said, absently wiping her face with the back of her hand. She had flour on her cheek and on her shirt.

“Baking?” he asked, coming into her flat when she moved out of the way.

She nodded. “I do that when I’m stressed or sad or…whatever,” she said, shutting the door behind him. “I thought the DIs and everyone at the Yard might want some treats.” 

He looked over into the kitchen and saw the platters of biscuits scattered on the worktop. There were at least six, and there had to be more than a dozen biscuits on each. “That might be more than they can eat,” he said.

She sighed. “I know,” she said. “I just…I have nothing to do, and I’m so _bored_. The telly isn’t interesting, I feel as though I’ve read all my books already, and everyone else seems to be pulling away, like they don’t want to come near me. I mean, aside from you and John and Mary and Greg.”

He moved over to where some biscuits were cooling. He gestured to them, silently asking if he could take one, and she nodded. “Because of your failed engagement?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said as he picked one up and took a bite. “I mean, some of them were more his friends then mine, so obviously we aren’t going to stay in touch. But…between being sacked and ending things, they’re looking at me like I’m oozing poison or something. Social poison, I suppose.”

“Then to hell with them,” Sherlock said with a shrug. “If they won’t be there when you need them they aren’t really friends.”

“I suppose,” she said, joining him and taking a biscuit. “Was there any reason you came over?”

“I had a proposition for you,” he said. “As you won’t be doing anything with the teaching position until the fall term, and as John is not going to be my assistant as much since he’s settled in at the surgery and he has his life with Mary, I could use an assistant. I know our last attempt didn’t go well, but if you’d like to try again…” He trailed off and had another bite of the biscuit.

“Well, since I don’t have a reason to avoid you now I don’t suppose it would hurt,” she said, giving him a small smile.

“So Tom wanted you to avoid me?” Sherlock asked.

Molly nodded. “He knew I had cared for you very much, that I had fancied you quite a bit. He thought that since you weren’t really dead those feelings might flare up again.” She nibbled on her biscuit. “He was just jealous.”

He remained quiet for a moment, noting she kept using past tense. Apparently two years was long enough to move on from her infatuation, it seemed. While he was happy for that, because she truly deserved the best and he believed without a doubt that the best was someone other than him, part of him found it disheartening that there was not some small trace of that passion left for him. “I see. He had no reason to be, though. Obviously.”

“No,” she said. “But…there were a lot of things wrong with our relationship, I suppose, that I didn’t see until it all blew up on me.” She shook her head. “It’s not important now, though. I’m not going to marry him so I don’t need to worry about it. I’ll know better next time. I’ll find someone who appreciates my worth and doesn’t treat me like I’m inferior or I’m there to make them look good.” She gave him a small smile. “And in the meantime, I’ll get to spend time with you and strengthen our friendship, which will be nice.”

He nodded. “Well, that will be one of many things I hope to strengthen,” he said. “While we’re between cases I’d like to work with you on various deductive skills, self defense things, marksmanship skills…things to help you in case you ever are called upon to do something in my stead.”

He smile got a little wider. “Oh, this could get quite interesting,” she said. “Is there anything you’d like to work on now?”

“If you’re done baking for the moment, we could take these to Scotland Yard and see if perhaps Lestrade will find a way for us to make use of the shooting range,” Sherlock said. “Or at the very least, allow you to get used to more types of firearms.”

“Well, we could leave this batch that’s cooling out and you can take them home with you, if you want,” she said after a moment. “If you like the one you’re eating, I mean.”

“It’s better than Mrs. Hudson’s,” he said, giving her a grin.

“We’ll keep that between us for now,” she said. “Then I’ll send the rest home with you, all right?”

He nodded. “All right,” he said with a nod before pushing away from the worktop. He couldn’t do much to make her life better, to make it the completely fulfilling way it had been before, but he could do a small part and he hoped that would be enough for now. He did not want her to be sad. He did not like the idea of Molly being sad because that was not fair. She of all people deserved better than that, and if there was anything he could do to ensure she got better than so help him, he would ensure it.


End file.
